I have been working on this post for awhile. So forgive the discrepancies in the time table.

Yesterday was my daughters first birthday. I have been a mom for a whole year! What the heck. My sister Jill would tell you I celebrated by looking the part. I got all my hair chopped off and wore pearls. Between those two piece, the protruding belly and the cardigan sweater I did kind of scream Mommy, but hey with a one year old and one due in September, what are you going to do but rock the part of mom? I do drive a station wagon after all.

I feel so very blessed to have this sweet, sweet child in my life. She woke up smiling and was a joy during her entire party….even if it was Sunday which means the first nap gets skipped. One of my friends says her children came into this world in the same way that they interact with the world. In this case that seems to be true.

Except for the minor (ha! It doesn’t feel the fourth night in a row you are waking up for the fifth time) sleep issues the peanut is a dream. She is the happiest little girl. At church I have been asked if she ever cries! She is friendly and curious and when you pick her up to cuddle her and put her on your hip she likes to pat your back. It is one of my very favorite things.

I also lover her sense of humor. It is so amazing to me that it is already evident. I mean a year ago all she could do was eat, sleep, and poop. She likes to mimic faces and Brooke, (who blogs here) has taught her some cute ones. When she discovers that somethings she does is charming she laughs and claps and remembers so she can pull her new trick out later to charm the pants off of someone else. My current favorite is covering her ears when you say peek-a-boo. Hilarious. Second place is counting. The words are all wrong but the inflection is perfect! I love that she screams in glee and starts crawling faster when she realizes you are following her to thwart her current plans (which usually include either playing in the dog food, the open dishwasher, or crawling to the bathroom and trying to climb into the tub.)

I love how social she is. She loves to interact with the people at the grocery store or her dad’s work. She absolutely adores other children. Watching her cousin and her interact was the most hilarious thing. They clearly were ready to be besties. I have no idea what they were telling each other, but they seemed to understand each other perfectly. Her other favorite kiddo is the two year old at Elizabeth’s. When they watch Baby Einstein together they always laugh at the same parts. What is up with that? She flaps her hands when she sees Elizabeth’s clan make their way to church. And please do not think of coming into a room without acknowledging her directly. OF-FEN-DED.

And though I know it may burn me in the future, I love that she knows what she wants and lets you know that she wants it. Currently this is usually whatever you are eating or drinking at the time (50th percentile in height 90th in weight ahem.) or the remote control. Peanut lets you know that she would like that. Now please. But she is still distractable enough that the remote with the dead batteries works just as well as the one that lights up. I am not good at asking for what I want. I sit back and am sometimes resent other people’s abilities to say “this is what I want or need” without saying “if that is okay” or feeling guilty about being too demanding. It is something I want to make sure I don’t pass on to my daughters (daughters, I am going to have daughters, plural!). And it is a little weird I have this issue as neither of my sisters seem to.

Mostly I love how she is her own creation; she is already the person God has created her to be. He knows her path and I am excited to continue to help her along it.

Names are so funny. In Biblical days people were named very often for places and circumstances. There names were changed when there hearts were changed. Or the meaning becomes clear or works in two opposite ways like Peter. He started as a pebble, getting kicked around. But became the corner-stone of the church, the rock Christ built the church on. Cool, God, that is pretty cool.

My name means joy. Or in some translations Joy of her father (I think). I don’t think it is an accident that dad and I have the same prophetic gifts. My middle name is Kathleen, not only am I the spitting image of my mother-Kathleen, we chose the same profession, we have the same tastes, I do things that make my sisters scream “AAAAHHH you’re MOM!.” There are moments when I look in the mirror and think I look more like my mother than myself.

Christian’s name means follower of Christ. There was a time when this was not the primary way he, or anyone else would have defined him. But it was what his mother named for, and what she prayed for. And now, thankfully, he is first and foremost a follower of Christ. This is how he sees his life, his primary role.

Juliet means youthful. It is one of my favorite things about Christian. It is also in honor of my grandmother Juliane. Marie means overthrow or rebellion (I named my kid youthful rebellion. I may have a handful in a couple of years….). But I like the idea of the very feminine name having this strength behind it. I also read that Marie is derived from Myrrh, which is bitter at first but later turns sweet. Perfect, not the twins but sweeter than I could ask for.

We had a potential name picked out for a girl. Then sometime last week I soured on it. It wasn’t that I didn’t like the name Lila, it was just  that….I don’t know. I wasn’t sure Lila was the baby in my belly. Which was fine…because I was having a boy. So when we opened the envelope and saw “female” we were pretty surprised, and thought pretty quickly…..what are we going to name this child? Christian even said “man, now I have to get serious about baby names!”

So we spent a couple of hours on Nameberry. Seriously, a couple of hours. It went something like this Felicity, Fiona, Felicia? No. Hazel, Ivy? No. Maya, Eleanor? I like those but I am not sure that is this baby….. Lorna? Nora? Neither work with the last name Norman. I’m looking at the list literary girl’s names. Well, I’m looking at the list classic under used girls names. Okay, we definitely like Juliet because it is classic and not because it is fancy. Abby, why have you suggested half the names on the hipster list? I’m looking at the list if you like Josephine you’ll love…. Well I am looking at the list if you like Ava you’ll love….. Then I started reading the blog. It talked about how two syllable names sound best with one or three syllable last names. Three syllable names work well with two syllable last names. Hmmmm…. So then I gave up and started tooling around facebook while Christian thought some more.

I had given up deciding that God would have to whisper the name to me. Or someone. That maybe I would be one of those women in the hospital who has “baby girl” and they won’t release you until you name your baby. We weren’t even talking about baby names anymore when Christian said it. What about Priscilla? Priscilla, I like it. I love it. Then Christian started to choke up. He didn’t read it. We don’t know where we got it. It seems as though God whispered it to him. Priscilla, meaning ancient and venerable. (I admit I had to look up venerable. It means honorable, set apart, sacred. Wow.) Priscilla is a very prominent woman in the Acts church. Christian even read that some people think she wrote Hebrews. I also like that Juliet and Priscilla both are names that people think of in pairs (Romeo and Juliet, Priscilla and Aquila). Classic, feminine, has a standard spelling, won’t be 4 of them on the kindergarten playground.

But mostly, it feels right. We have a peace about it. And the coolest thing happened. Now that she has a name we are SO excited to meet her. God gave us this name and I can’t wait to meet this little person, help her become the person God wants her to be. Watch her and her sister fight, and love, and laugh and fight, and giggle, and plot against Christian and I, and laugh until they pee themselves. Priscilla. We are SO excited to meet you!

In two hours I will know what kind of bun is in this oven…..Well I say that. But I had a very clear girl shot before and I still wondered if two boys were going to come out. Either way I figured I would take home whatever came out.

So far we have only seen one baby on the ultrasound, and my friends who know more than I do about those things seem to say that one baby at nine weeks means one at twenty weeks. But in my spirit I hear my heart again whispering, there could be two. God could do it like that.

And then all the what ifs….If it is a girl I will be really excited that Peanut has a sister, but we do not have a name picked out. If it is a boy, one boy there will be much praying and contemplation about what to name him.

I don’t want to be disappointed by any baby….but I do want a boy, or really I want two. I will be super thrilled with the baby when it is time to take the baby home. But that wrestling with God in the mean time. I am praying that I accept whatever the Lord reveals, and am excited about it.

P.S. I accidentally scheduled the ultrasound during Christian’s exams, so they are writing it down and putting it in an envelope and we will see if I can wait for Christian to get home before I rip open the envelope.

Edit: We have a singleton, one girl. And we have a name! Totally feel like it was given to us by the Lord.We have a singleton, one girl. And we have a name! Totally feel like it was given to us by the Lord. It is funny how I said I wanted a boy. Now I am just super excited to meet my little girl!

Just thought I would let you all know that at soon as I write about all this stuff…..I stop worrying or crying about it. So, basically you all read my craziest parts. You are very welcome.

I swing back and forth on the pendulum of emotion. I know that some of this is simply pregnancy emotion and that everyone does it. I remember staying home from work so that I could cry all day with Juliet, before all the twin business started. I was just completely overwhelmed by the thought of a baby in my life. What if I didn’t want to go back to work? What if I was terrible at motherhood? What if my emotions never went back into control? What if there was something wrong? What if all the worrying caused something to be wrong? What if Christian died and she would never know her father? What if they had to put me into a medically induced coma just to gestate the baby, and then a c-section and then they pulled the plug and she would never know me? (I swear I wasn’t watching soap operas all day, but it sure sounds like it…..).

I also remember thinking that I of all people did not have a right to think and feel those things. I wanted this baby this was a planned  pregnancy. Here I was weeping over the life change this baby who I hoped and planned for and I still hoped that other women would be braver than I and carry babies to term who were not hoped and planned for. Hy-po-crite.

This time around I am still a mess, but a different kind. This pregnancy has been surprisingly less emotionally exhausting. Maybe it is because I am emotionally throwing up on anyone who read this and not keeping it all inside. (Thank you dear readers, have a wet wipe.) But physically I am drained, drained. And the sheer exhaustion has definately made me generally crabby. Oh and what is that, hello 20 week Braxton-Hicks.

But ultimately, over all I would say this pregnancy feels like the space between Good Friday and Easter Sunday. On Sunday someone mentioned that Saturday, the one between The Crucifixion and Resurrection,  and I have been thinking about it a lot. We talked about it a little bit in small group yesterday. What was it like for them? The disciples, the crowds who had been following Jesus and believing that He was indeed the messiah. What was it like for his mom, who had believed so effortlessly when the angels came to tell her that she was with child….but hadn’t had sex yet? What was it like for people who had dropped their careers and abandoned families to follow Jesus, only to watch Him die on a cross? How did they deal with the reality they were seeing when it conflicted with the hope and faith that had been growing in their hearts about who Jesus was. Who Jesus proved himself to be over and over again.

Sure, by Sunday it all made sense. That whole ridiculous business about being sold and crucified, really THAT was the piece that wasn’t a parable? Really? Okay, he WAS the Messiah, He IS the messiah, regardless of the expectations He made it work. By Sunday there was a greater plan explained, an understanding that only comes from the complete picture. How I long for the complete picture.

But that Saturday must have been rough. Some people were probably angry, some disappointed, others frustrated. Maybe some wallowed in their doubt, or were already on their way home to beg for their jobs back and apologize to their family members, knowing they would hear “I told you so” for a long long time. I like to think that there were some who clung to the hope that if they just held out long enough Jesus would come back and make it all make sense somehow.

And Saturday is exactly what this pregnancy feels like, what every pregnancy will feel like (and Lord have mercy may this be the one, next tops) until there are two baby boys in my arms. Two tiny heart beats on the monitor. I go from anger, to doubt, always in confusion. I don’t want to be disappointed, but know I will be. I am trying to have faith….and when push comes to shove I know they are coming…..it is only the when that I struggle with.

I feel so small, so selfish. I know that people have real problems. There are millions of women who would beg for ANY baby. That infertility is a heartbreaking path that the I will never have to travel down. At this point I am absolutely guaranteed two biological plus as many as we choose to adopt. I know how lucky I am. And yet, I want my boys. The ones I know are out there, are designated for me. And I want to be sure and rest in peace, the peace of Sunday because I know the fulfilment is coming. But right now, I have the desperate faith and hope of Saturday. Because it isn’t Sunday yet, and I need to be okay with my Saturday faith…..because I believe God is okay with it.

Tuesday I have an ultra-sound. I am praying that anyway it is, it will be revealed to me on Tuesday. But you know what I want it took look like…..

Peanut is using new words by the second. Her current favorite is Uh-Oh! Ever the English teacher I am attempting to get her to use her new word only when appropriate. It has been going something like this:

Yesterday I was hit in the face with the reality of how into me I am. Ughh. Don’t you love the mirror God occasionally holds up to your heart? Yesterday, I did not.

We bought a car a couple of weeks ago. We meant to get around to making the key. We did. But I work full time and am ridiculously tired because this baby(s) is eating me from the inside out. Christian has the baby the days he is home, we babysit two nights a week. Weekends are full of other stuff. We just don’t feel like it, but we will get to it later……except now we won’t get to it later because somehow this weekend we managed to lose the key. We looked everywhere. I even went through the trash. Gone. Like yesterday, the key is gone. We need the key so I can get to work tomorrow. The replacement cost us $250. Ouch.

Also, Sunday I couldn’t get the Wii remote to work. This may not sound like a big deal, but we don’t have cable and we stream netflix live through the Wii. So, basically the TV went out.

And finally, today Christian texted me to let me know that he couldn’t find his keys and may not be able to get to work. While the Internet at school was acting up and my lesson plans demanded netflix and the new superintendent was roaming the school looking for classes to pop in on. Awesome!

All of this has driven me to my knees. I have been praying desperately and fervently. Please just let this stuff work! Which makes me realize that I haven’t been praying desperately and fervently for much else lately. Not for my friends and co-workers who don’t know the Lord, not for the city I profess to love deeply. Not for my children, the peanut or whoever happens to be residing in my uterus. Not even for guidance as to whether or not I should teach summer school. I have been praying I make it to work on time the 4 days a week I am cutting it too close for comfort.

I remember a time in college where this wasn’t the case. I had a lot of friends who didn’t know the Lord personally. Some of them seemed to be seeking, some of them had let me know up front that they didn’t really have any interest, but they were okay with the fact that the whole Jesus thing seemed to be working for me. I was on my knees for these people every single night. I would literally cry out to God, tears streaming down my face, for the lives of my friends. I steadily prayed for three people who didn’t know the Lord all through Junior High and High School, the inside of my dresser decorated with an orange piece of construction paper with a three person list and a Jesus fish in blue paint marker. God has twice in my life repeatedly woken me up to pray for things that I didn’t fully understand until the whole situation was revealed (both had to do with unborn babies no one knew about).

But right now? Currently I am completely keyed into praying for things that make my life easier, that benefit and convenience me. It isn’t that I don’t think God doesn’t want these things for my life. It is just that….well…..I like the person I am better when I am more in tune with other people’s problems, with other’s needs. Considering where I work, there are people in my life (my students) who have larger problems than their netflix not working. When my prayers are less concerned with the admittedly shallow needs of my own and more concerned with the deep hurt of the world around me.

I went  to visit my sister and her three kids in Detroit over spring break. I had a great time but it was so cold. Why do people live where it snows, in April? I am so so so glad that the Lord called me to Atlanta and not Alaska.

So I was at my sister’s in Alaska Detroit. She has three kids. Three girls. Basically she has the exact family we were raised in, space between sisters and all. 5, 3, and 1. It was super fun to be around. I kept calling us the estrogen parade. Everybody at the mall, or at the zoo (where we had a friend’s 4 year old girl- 5 girls under 5) kept commenting about all of those little girls. Especially when we dressed them alike for their picture. Here were some of the highlights

*Deciding at 8 am to get the girls dressed in matching outfits (that we had to find and put together) and get their picture taken. We had never done this before and it was hilarious. The big girls did a great job but the babies were a little less than co-operative. So the poor photographer had to keep a 3 and 5 year old in place and smiling while the Em’s youngest cried that she wasn’t being held by mama and the Peanut (who refused to nap that day) pulled on her ear and looked border line comatose. Lucky for us we got one good photo. So it wasn’t a difficult decision.

*After the photo-shoot we drove half way across town to go to the mall with the play place, got the kids fed (the Peanut was mad I didn’t get her food fast enough). Where there was a sweet carousel and Em and I had no cash so the big girls had to be told sorry after we had said yes…..oops. Luckily there was enough change for them to each go on the ride of their choice. They were remarkably amiable about the whole thing. By the time we got home I was really glad my brother-in-law had made dinner. We were all pretty tired.

*Four girls in one bathtub. The squealing, the splashing. The sheer joy of it all.

Mostly it was fun to watch the older sisters interact. I don’t really have any memories of what it was like to have day to day interactions with my sisters when I was one or three. It was pretty entertaining, especially watching the older two. The oldest who I will refer to as the Star and the second who I will call the Scientist were constantly playing together. Occasionally the Star would tell the Scientist “You can’t be my best friend anymore.” Which she is NOT allowed to say. Mostly because it is mean, but also because it is not true. Em and I were sitting around laughing about it.

Ask Jill and I, as much as you try to avoid it you sisters are there. Always there…..the person who you are screaming at across the 150 people in the band room, is the “extra” person you want with you in the delivery room when you are birthing your first child. The person who bears the scars of your fights is the same one who is still able to make you laugh until you pee yourself at 27 years old. It is the arch of sisterhood. Those old rivalries and frustrations will fade and be the strange foundation of the closest relationship outside of your marriage. If you let them. If you forgive. If you and your family covers those relationships in prayer. Believe me. I know.

I still remember the Christmas where I was engaged, where Jill and I had erupted into yet another argument. I know it was about something stupid, but I don’t remember exactly what. We ended up yelling across the living room as our extended family wondered if we were ever going to be able to get along. And my dad let us know what a bad witness it was. Two people who professed to be followers of Christ, who spoke of the forgiveness of sin, were unable to forgive each other of anything, ever. Whooops. Merry Christmas.

We began praying for our relationship without telling each other, and just a few years later Jill was the family member I was praying would come here. Jill was the one I was so desperately grateful for when I had my baby, funny how God’s grace can work out like that. Can cover and heal relationships if you let it.

There is little doubt in my mind that The Star and The Scientist will have a similarly close relationship as they age. And for them I leave this hilarious interaction. Because, who else can you puke on but your sister.

Star: (Bursting in the door) I PUKED! I puked on Scientist, I puked on her coat. I PUKED on Scientist’s coat!

Scientist: (Trudging in) Someone puked on my coat, star puked on my coat. I do not want to wear this coat anymore.

At which point I was doing everything I could to control my laughter. When I found out that Scientist had made Star laugh so hard that she puked up the birthday cake she had eaten I couldn’t contain myself any longer and covered my head with a blanket until I laughed till I cried.

See, this is what you need sisters for, to make you laugh so hard you have some sort of bodily fluid come out of you involuntarily.

So I work at an urban High School. I really enjoy it. I find these kids particularly charming. As difficult as it is, and as much as I whine about it (oh, and how) I feel privileged that these kids share their lives with me. I also am grateful that my life is bigger than me, what is going on in my own house. I like that God has given me a heart for people who have it a whole lot harder than I do. I like watching so many of  them rise from their circumstances and succeed.

Anyway, I went to an assembly with my students yesterday. It was about post-secondary options, specifically, dual enrollment. Basically, the state of Georgia will give qualifying students the opportunity to go to college for high school credit for free. This is a great opportunity for most kids, but especially for mine for a couple of reasons. Most of my kids don’t have parents or siblings or cousins who went to college, so they don’t know what it is like or what to expect. If they can take one class while still at home and the rest at high school it is a good way to make the whole college thing less intimidating. Also, no one needs FREE college more than my kids. And they will likely go to school in GA and qualify for a lot of financial aid, which tax payers foot the bill for. So if the tax payers can pay for a credit once and not have to foot the bill for the high school credit as well, everyone is better off.

In order to promote this whole dual enrollment thing, the state produced a video that is on a website that they are requiring the couselors to make every kid watch. Here is my beef with the video. While it is supposed to be talking about ALL the different ways you can get college credit in high school, the video highlighted a single student. Clinton Klett.  And he is as white as his name. Whiter even. He is a student at Georgia Tech and he came to tech with a ridiculous 27 hours worth of AP credit. There aren’t even 27 hours worth of AP options offered at my school.

But there ARE options that COULD work for my kids. The move on when ready seems like it could really work for them, and some community colleges are right off Marta lines on purpose….but that isn’t what the video focuses on. The video focuses on Clinton Klett, the white kid who aced his bajillion AP classes and talks about the benefit of being able to take less classes his Jr. and Sr. year instead of the cash benefit of graduating a semester or two early. Oh yeah, because Mr. Klett has the ability to bank roll little Clinton’s education.

In don’t mean to knock this kid. I am sure he worked really freaking hard in high school and think it is great that he gets to reap these benefits. But the focus of the video let MY kids know in no uncertain terms that this video was not designed with them in mind. If it was they would have had a Clinton Klett in smaller doses and had Myesha Parks who took the bus to night classes and can tell you how much money she saved and how she could support herself one year sooner. Or a kid talking about how the computer classes let them not have to listen to b.s. from teachers. That would get my students interested.

But they didn’t. The lovely people who make all the statewide decisions for all the students in GA choose Clinton Klett as the sole spokesperson. Classic.

The radio station that I listen to in the morning has a segment called “stepping into psycho” basically it is when someone who is normally main stream decided they are going to do something crazy. Follow their boyfriend because they think he is cheating, or putting spy ware on their ex-girlfriend. Something that is sort of embarrassing to admit to.

Sometimes I feel like I have stepped into Christianity psycho. Whispers in your heart, following sensible soft leading, those are things Christians do. And talk about openly. But speak in tongues (I do that as of about six months ago) or tell people that while the ultrasound has so far only detected one heart beat your friend who had dreams the first time is having some more dreams this time. Your dad who got words the first time is having more words this time….and they include other members of the family. You can’t quench a hope in your heart no matter how hard you try.

So here I am. Claiming twins again. Believing that this time is THE time. Getting chills when I type that. So, if you have a double infant stroller you aren’t using….hang onto it until further notice. I still believe that I could need it.